Lying To Be Perfect?// Michael Clifford.

13.

When we were done eating, we walked out of McDonalds, it was so pleasant. I loved opening up to him and talking about a lot of stuff like his plans for music, and he asked me what kind of music interests me, he also followed me on my personal account (i made it the second day I met him because I didn't want him to know I'm a fangirl lol), shared his views about how he's never minded fans talking about his personal life because he chose this career being fully aware that he's going to have almost no privacy. It was good getting to know him more than the facts and tweets about him on the internet.

"So, I'll drop you back home?" he asks, "you'll have school tomorrow, right?"

"Um.. I'm actually skipping school tomorrow because I have to find a job, and, you know there's this place I know, I go there with my friends to hang out and spend time, do you want to go there?" I offer.

"I don't mind at all," he says, "What are you plans for the job?"

We sat in his car and he started to drive, "I don't know.. I'll do pretty much any kind of job I'll get," I laugh nervously, "I'm that desperate,"

"Why do you need a job so bad? Is there an emergency?"

"Noo... It's just... there's still time for my mom to transfer money and I'm running out of cash,"

"So it's like an emergency,"

"Kind of," I shrug, "It's so tough to get a job in London, ugh!" I frowned.

He just chuckled, "I'll see what I can do,"

"No way!" I object, "Listen, you've helped me enough already, I cannot take anymore favours from you,"

"Shut up," he says, "By the way, you realize I'm driving to your house, because I don't know where this mystery place of what you spoke is,"

"Oh!" I remembered, "It's a little ahead from my house,"

"Cool, then," he nods, "Do you want to work in a library?" he asks.

"That's the dream job," I say.

"I can hook you up in one," he says.

"Of course," I roll my eyes, "Michael Clifford and his contacts,"

He just laughed, "Well, do you want your dream job?"

"I hate taking favours," I say.

"Shut up, I want to help you,"

"That's the problem!" I sigh, "And if I don't accept it I'll get tagged rude,"

"No, you won't," he says, "It's just that my friend's dad really wants his book store to work,"

"Ahh, alright, I'll take it," I say.

"I'll text you his number," he shook his head.

"Okay, now go left," I guide him after we crossed my house.

"Left again," I say.

"Just a little further," I bite my lower lip, "you know it's not that much of a great place," I say being a little nervous about how he may not like a simple place like that.

"Can we sit there?" he asks.

"Yeah.. like on top on your car, please? I've always wanted to do that!" I giggle.

"Woah," he chuckles, "Sure, I'm sure I'll like it,"

I shrug, "just warning you,"

***

"Bullshit!" he says again, "Fucking bullshit!"

I bite my lower lip, I really couldn't predict his expressions, is he angry or excited?